


Forsaken

by Puck_Monger_99



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Demonic Possession, Other, Poor Antoine, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puck_Monger_99/pseuds/Puck_Monger_99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the lovely LadyJanelly's Devil Inside. </p><p>Antoine is forsaken by God, and he despises Them for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Devil Inside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973076) by [LadyJanelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanelly/pseuds/LadyJanelly). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to direct to LadyJanelly, mostly because she is just wonderful. I really recommend you go check out her stuff. Secondly, I just finished seeing The Phantom of the Opera live, and it made me laugh, cry, and everything in-between. I really recommend you go see it if you can, because it was phenomenal.
> 
> This is a three part story, so I'll update every week to two weeks.

It felt like freezing cold water the first time Antoine and Jamie touched. While nowadays he would have preferred it to be like a Disney movie, with sparkles and rainbows, and generally looking like a unicorn was vomiting it's life force onto everything, it was anything but. It was just a short handshake, didn't even last three seconds, but it left Antoine reeling. His world spun a little, his throat seizing up while his lungs filled, until he blacked out. 

Waking up in a chair in the back of the Stars' conference room didn't surprise him, but he was taken aback by the lingering stares the other guys shot him. The GM, Nieuwendyk, was at the front of the crowded room, talking mostly to the vets at the moment, but when he started talking about chemistry on the ice, his eyes flickered over Antoine. No, wait. He was looking at the guy in front of him. A gelled, brown flow and broad shoulders, wearing a grey hoodie, jean shorts. That didn't mean anything to him, not his appearance, but the icy tendrils that ghosted around the man were so palpable that Antoine knew it was Jamie. 

When they were dismissed from the meeting, Antoine tried to get out as quickly as possible. He had made it out of the building undetected, and was already speeding down the highway to his new Dallas apartment when his phone buzzed. At the next red light, he fumbled with the small electronic until he could read the text, cursing slightly under his breath. 

/It's Jamie. You sort of blanked out b4 the meeting. Just wondering if you are ok./ 

Antoine turned his phone off, and would not look at it again until after he got home and puked.

*  
When he was four, a little girl moved into his neighborhood. She was very pretty, about seven or eight, with rosy cheeks and mousey hair. She spoke little French, and hardly played outside. One morning, she was reading on her doorstep when Antoine's mama was gardening. He stopped splashing in his dirt mountains to notice her with a big smile. He waddled over, thrust his toy car at her with muddy hands and made his demand: "Play with me." 

They played well into the afternoon,with Antoine doing most of the talking. Many times he caught her just looking at him, but he just thought she didn't know what he was saying. His mama had told him that the girl was from somewhere far away, and that she would not be able to talk as much as he could. He just smiled, and continued playing. But when he told her to be the dragon his monster truck driving knight would fight, she hissed. When he started to get scared, and tried backing away, she lunged at him and threw him to the ground. 

He suddenly felt like his whole body was being crushed. His ribs cracked, and he couldn't feel his legs, couldn't see out of his left eye anymore. The sky started to fade, and the girl was forgotten in favor of the blistering hot pain that was racing through his little body. 

When Antoine couldn't feel anything anymore, the sky was dark. He looked around, and didn't know where he was at all. There were trees instead of houses, and the ground was mushy. Not at all like asphalt. He jerked a bit, trying to find the girl before she hit him again, but she wasn't there. 

A group of hikers found Antoine the next morning in an awful state. His face had been clawed up, and blood was splattered all over his tattered shirt and shorts. Bite marks covered the entirety of his small calves and feet. According to one woman, it looked as if he had been attacked by a feral dog. 

*  
Antoine remembers his first trip to a Quebecois library. His family had just settled in from the move from Roubaix, and had forced the kids out of the house. He was sixteen. 

His sister suggested they check out some books that their high school had mandated be read before the summer ended, so Antoine followed her six blocks to the gaudy building with a frown. The smell was so piercing, it smelled like dust and moth balls, and Antoine nearly ran back to their house. His sister had grabbed his wrist, and pulled him forcefully inside. 

While his sister was looking for his books, Antoine got lost upstairs. He searched for the stairwell that led him there, but ended up in another moldy corner of the library. He sat down by a bookcase, and waited for another human to pass by, so he could grab them and maybe end up with his sister again. 

With nothing else to do but twiddle his thumbs, Antoine skimmed the spines of the books. It seemed like he was in the supernatural section, because the subject matter of the books was definitely not Sherlock Holmes. Monsters, ghosts, angels. It all made Antoine roll his eyes. 

But, then his hand started to burn. 

Antoine had let out a small shout, backing away from the bookcase. A small, paperback book fell on the ground, loose papers scattering across the floor. A mostly blank page landed at Antoine's foot. 

The boy eyed the paper warily, but still picked it up. It seemed to be a table of content. 

It was a book of demons and evil spirits. He crawled forward and picked up the rest of the book, shuddering a little as a chill raced down his entire body. Antoine looked for the library stamp in the front cover, but didn't find it. He searched for it through all the pages, but didn't see anything that wasn't text. 

He looked around, then gathered all the papers into the cover. He shoved the little bundle down the front of his pants, where part of it would be covered by his t shirt, and started to look for a stairwell. 

Later that night, when his sister and parents were relaxing in their backyard, Antoine disappeared to his room. He flipped through the small book, brow furrowed. Fleeting memories of a little girl filled his mind, the phantom sting of claws on his face. He fingered a scar on his cheek. 

Demons, he laughed at himself. How could it be anything like that? 

*  
Now, as he sits in the middle of the locker room, convulsing in front of his teammates, foaming at the lips, he thinks of the stupidity that led him here. Suddenly, demons don't sound so crazy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second installment of Forsaken. Hope you like it, because I sure had a hell of a time writing it. The last chapter should be here in about two weeks, if I can manage. I'm starting a new job, so updates will be iffy. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!

Tyler Seguin was a damn good hockey player. The kid exploded in Boston, leaving impressive stats all over the place, and even winning the fucking Stanley Cup in his rookie year. Antoine didn't spare the effort to be jealous of his talent, because he had his own aspirations at the time, but he at least thought Seguin's career with the Bruins franchise would be permanent.

He feels a little ashamed now that he learned about Tyler's trade through the news, but he knows it wouldn't have really changed the outcome of their meeting if he listened to their new GM's voicemails. He'd looked at his computer in shock. How did we get him? He thought. Why is he coming here? It baffled him that Boston would make the trade, but with all the shit that Tyler had done over the few seasons with them, it proved that the Bruins couldn't handle young blood.

Antoine was admittedly prepared to find a rambunctious, annoying boy in Tyler. He didn't find anything of the sort. 

Tyler the person was different from Tyler the player. While the player was grace and speed and energy, the person was alcohol and parties wrapped in teenage desperation that followed him into his twenties. Tyler the person was lonely and scared, and so vulnerable that when Antoine first saw him at training camp, he nearly turned around and walked back to his car. 

There was something off about Tyler Seguin, like he was hollow on the inside. 

Contrary to popular belief, Antoine doesn't actually go looking for a fight. He just has the worst luck starting them off the ice as much as he does on. There was something about Seguin that made Antoine feel too violent, too rough around the edges. Made him feel like he could break people. He made fire burn at Antoine's core. 

It wasn't romantic. That was clear from the moment their eyes met. No, those brown eyes made something in Antoine want to protect him. That fire, he realized, was some sort of sick devotion that wouldn't go away. He worried more for the young man than himself, a sentiment that followed him through their first season together. Antoine was observing, protecting. He surprised the guys, most notably Brenden, when he hardly talked through entire games. He was only watching to make sure nothing happened. Nothing like Jamie. 

Jamie. Antoine worried for him, too. It wasn't like he didn't notice when that thing inside him got excited. Jamie's throat constricted, teeth grit as he tried to ignore it. It looked painful. It practically froze Antoine, like he was getting invisible hypothermia. And it only happened around Tyler. 

Antoine understood why, though. Tyler felt special. 

*  
Antoine was sleeping on the couch when his phone started to buzz. He only woke up when the sound of plastic hitting wood made him jolt. Rubbing his eyes, he groped the floor awhile until he grabbed his phone, silently plotting revenge on whoever it was that decided to call him hours before the sun rose. 

It took him a moment to adjust to the brightness of the screen, but when he did, six texts and a voicemail were waiting for him. He listened to the voicemail first, from Brenden, and felt his blood run cold. It had been a few hours since he called first, and going by his inbox, had steadily been calling every twenty minutes since. 

"Hey, Rouss. Fuck, Tyler's gay!" Antoine worried his lip a bit, wondering if the defenseman was drunk. "Seriously, there's a fucking sex tape! I mean, I kind of assumed... But why wouldn't he tell us? Whatever, I sent the vid to you. Call me back, man." Antoine dropped his hand on the couch cushions next to him. 

After a moment of silence, he got the courage to pick up his phone again. 

Antoine looked at the texts, all along the lines of Brenden's voicemail, and at least half of them had some link to the tape. And, he noted with some interest, they were all from defenseman. He opened one up, and through the grainy quality, made out Tyler's face. He was on his knees, cheeks red and hollowed, and his lips and hands curled around... 

Antoine felt his face heat up, and closed out of the video quickly. 

He looked at the time, sighed. He decided that he could deal with this new development in the morning. He turned his phone off so as not to be disturbed again, and tossed it to the side. Too tired to relocate himself to his bed, Antoine slumped back onto the couch, and tried to ignore the peculiar feeling of dread that wormed around his belly. 

*  
Antoine concentrated on the floor, hardly listening to the television blaring in his front room. He had just gotten off a thirty minute call with Brenden, detailing the other man's despair at the thought of Tyler leaving the team. Who would be there to sing horribly to pop songs after practice? Who would be there to crack a funny joke after a vicious loss? The locker room just wouldn't be the same. 

Trade rumors had been pretty rampant. Most of the Stars franchise was waiting with bated breath, wondering if they were going to be saying goodbye to Tyler Seguin. His teammates weren't amused with even the idea of their center being sent to someone that couldn't take care of him. 

What was worse than the trade rumors, though, was the thought of Tyler leaving the NHL. Antoine didn't want to take it into consideration, but he couldn't ignore it. The threat was real. 

It made Antoine angry, angry that Tyler's entire career was at stake because some asshole uploaded their sex tapes online. He'd talked to Jordie, and got the older Benn to spill everything eventually. Well, everything but a name and address, of course. This is why he's hollow inside, he thought scathingly. People throw away his trust like it is nothing. 

With a bitter glare at his phone, he made his way to the bathroom. He needed a shower.

Under the warm spray that did little but to relax his joints slowly, he suddenly felt his chest seize up, and he was overcome with emotion. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he was on the floor of the stall, clutching at the shower curtain. Antoine whimpered a little, scared of the violent way his body was shaking, confused as hell. What the fuck? He thought, panicked. What the fuck is going on with me?

Fire. Cold fire burned under his skin. It felt like he was being torn up from the inside, with hatred. He tensed, trying to keep his fist from driving into the wall. The adrenaline flew through him, and although he was certain if he let go, it wouldn't hurt anymore, he withheld. When the anger subsided, he was still twitching in agony, and lost any strength that was holding him back. He could only curl in on himself. 

After thirty minutes of just sitting there in the fetal position, Antoine finally had enough strength to haul himself out. He crawled across the tile of his bathroom floor, gripping the edge of his sink tightly. When he felt a towel, he ripped it down, and dried himself. He was reluctant to move, but the sound of his phone going off in the front room made him limp to his couch, naked, save for the towel around his shoulders. 

It was Jamie. 

Heart pounding painfully against his ribcage, Antoine hit answer. 

"Allo?" He mumbled.

"Hi Antoine. It's-"

"Jamie, I know."

"Right. I needed to talk to you about Tyler." The captain's voice was cold, low. "I don't think you have a problem with him being gay, right?"

Antoine could hear the threat in his voice, making him swallow thickly. Chills raced up and down his back, and the feeling of someone staring at him was strong. "Not at all," he croaked out. His voice cracked a little in his nervousness. Jamie didn't notice, or didn't care. 

"Good. That's, well, that's good." He sounded relieved. 

"Yeah," Antoine breathed out, immediately at ease when Jamie calmed down. "That's good."

*  
CRACK.

Antoine looked on from the bench as Jamie nearly killed an opponent. Blood stained the ice around them, and terror filled Antoine to his bones. He couldn't see the eyes, but if Jamie were to be facing him, he was certain he'd find It in place of their captain. For a fleeting moment, he was afraid another fit of anger would seize him, and he would be joining Jamie in his already unfair fight. 

Faggot. Queer. Cocksucker. He'd already heard them all in one period, and only one motherfucker had said it directly to Tyler. Antoine knew that if (When, he corrected. Jamie always knew when.) Jamie heard it, something would happen. He just wished it wasn't this. 

Jamie was wrenched down the tunnel soon after he broke the other player. Antoine watched him go with a familiar feeling of dread curling his stomach. 

*   
"Fucking fag! You wanna suck my dick, Seguin?" 

Antoine's ears perked up as they gathered around the face off circle.

"Huh? Did you hear me, faggot?"

The ref lined up.

"Why don't you come over and suck me off. I hear you're good at it."

The puck dropped. 

Antoine's stick dropped, too. And his gloves, and his helmet. 

A snarl was already ripping out of his throat as he rushed the bastard, fist finding his nose. The stunned forward fell back onto the ice, and that was all Antoine needed. He was on him, elbow colliding with his cheekbone. The other guy had about three inches on him, but Antoine was too fast for the man to even retaliate. He was landing punches swiftly, powerfully.

He felt blood dripping from his knuckles, but ignored it. He was more focused on Jamie's cold gaze on his back from the stands, only egging him on further. The referee pulled him off, pushing him into the penalty box with a bewildered look. 

"Then do your fucking job!" Antoine yelled after him, wiping his bloody knuckles off with an offered towel. 

Later, when he was dashing from his stall, in nothing but his boxers and an undershirt, puking his guts into the nearest toilet, he cursed. He cursed himself, he cursed Jamie and Tyler, he cursed God. After all, he thought resentfully, God had already cursed him. Tears of pain and despair ran down his face as he said it to himself, over and over.

"He's forsaken me," he hiccuped in soft French. "God hates me." 

*

Antoine is forsaken by God, and he despises Them for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning practice. 

Antoine finished lacing up his skates, lingered a bit by his stall. He watched the door. His sleep deprived brain makes everything a little fuzzy, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to focus today. At least, not on what he was supposed to.

He could hear Brenden and Jordie from around the corner, and when the older Benn walked into the room, he knew something was wrong. Brenden's touches lingered a bit more than usual, but that wasn't the issue. No, Jordie looked sick.

"Where's Jamie?" Antoine asked, waddling over to the pair. There's only so much movement hockey pants allow, after all. "And Tyler?" The mention of their names seemed to set Jordie on edge even more. Brenden stopped talking to glare at him, but Antoine didn't spare him a glance. 

"They're..." 

"Hey, guys."

Jamie stepped around his brother to get to his stall, and Antoine physically recoiled. The usually constant waves of ice that used to come off of the other man were gone. Completely. Panic might be the only thing that drove Antoine to grab his captain, but it still happened. His hand curled around Jamie's wrist, and he could have cried. 

"It's gone," Antoine choked out in French. "Gone..." 

Suddenly, Tyler is crashing into Jamie with a laugh, and Jamie is pulling away to wrap his arms around him. Antoine felt warmth filling his heart, and he smiled. It was gone, and Tyler was safe, and he'll be able to sleep again. Jamie looked Tyler in the eye, kissed him on the forehead. Antoine grinned harder.

Everything was finally okay.

On the ice, everything was better.

Even if Tyler and Jamie played well before, now their play was impeccable. During scrimmage, any D-squad that was thrown against them could not stop their first line from scoring goal after goal. In fact, even Kari, who is usually level-headed during practice, had more than one hissy fit after he was scored on. His impenetrable shield only held up when Jamie and Tyler weren't coming at him. 

During shoot off drills, it was the same thing. Kari would block shot after shot, until Jamie came twisting down the lane, trying out some convoluted trick that looks like it will go top shelf, but ends up being five hole. No one else could get to Kari, not even Pevs. The jealousy and irritation coming off of the entire team was scary to Antoine. 

Tyler and Jamie didn't even notice their teammates animosity. They just relaxed around each other, leaned into each other's touches. In fact, Tyler was even more reserved than usual. He ignored everyone else, giving full attention to just Jamie. It made Antoine curious, but more than that, relieved. 

Ah, young love, right?

Although, not even Jordie was putting up with their antics. He was extremely short with his brother, and it really confused the hell out of everyone. Sure, they were being annoying, but...

To put it mildly, the locker room is tense. 

Antoine cringes a bit. No one stays long to sit or talk to either Jamie or Tyler, and the whole team is practically packed on one side of the room. Jamie is looking around with barely concealed hurt in his eyes, and Antoine understands. Now that his captain is free of that...whatever It was, he doesn't have to hold back anymore. He can practically talk or touch his friends in any way he wants, and not worry about biting their faces off without his consent. So, why are they all avoiding him? 

Antoine breathes in deeply, and stands. It is a brave thing to do, he knows it. 

He had already shoved his things in a duffel, was already in his street clothes. He plops down next to Jamie, who only weakly smiles back. Tyler is on his other side, quiet as well, and playing around on his phone. He doesn't look over. 

"That was a good practice for you and Segs, eh?" 

Jamie gives him a curious look. "Yeah, I guess. I just," He rubs his face with a sigh. "I'm kinda surprised, you know? I didn't get much sleep last night." 

Antoine smiles, mirth glowing in his eyes."I would assume." 

And even if Jamie is looking at him with confusion, and even though Antoine might have just let it slip that he knows more than they think, he is happy. It doesn't compare, he thinks, it shouldn't. He feels his smile grow a bit. But it doesn't matter. I'll be happy for them. With giddy laughter bubbling in his chest, he reaches behind Jamie to pat Tyler on the shoulder.

The moment seems to drag on, but eventually Antoine's fingers brush against the inked skin. His breath catches. 

Something is wrong.

Tyler looks up from his phone, makes eye contact. 

They flicker black. Dark voids that want to swallow Antoine up, to suffocate him. Then, without blinking, they come back to the warm brown that he is familiar with. 

Antoine lets out a choked sob.

*

He finds it important to note that Jamie and Tyler have an entirely different feel from each other. Jamie used to feel freezing, even in the sweltering Texas summers. Anytime Antoine was near him, he swore he would be able to see his breath eventually, and if he touched him, he was sure he could have lost a finger to frostbite. 

Tyler is so different.

Tyler is passion, heat, that spirals everywhere in the body. Tyler is sweaty, and primal, and almost angry. He feels fast, and rough, and like sex. 

Antoine feels a warmth pooling in his stomach, and the distantly memorable pain of bite marks littering random places on his body. He is embarrassed to let out a quiet moan, but he can't help it. It just happens. He feels woozy, and that sleep deprivation comes back like whiplash. Weeks of pacing his room at night, afraid of what he'll find in his dreams, hits him at full force, and he finds himself on his knees. 

He's crawling across the floor of the locker room, trying to get away from Jamie and Tyler as fast as he can. There's a worried din starting up among the guys, as most of them startle into laughter. But Antoine isn't laughing. He can feel his erection against his thigh, hard and leaking, and the nausea is making him fall in on himself. 

Jamie murmurs something in Tyler's ear. Antoine isn't even facing them, but he can feel the ghost of lips against his skin, and then strong arms are wrapped around his shoulders. But they aren't, not really. He presses his burning face against cool tile.

Lightning bolts of pain race up and down his spine, all over his face and neck. He can't feel the lower half of his body at all. His arms jerk a bit like a fish out of water, and the feeling of scorching heat is everywhere. 

"Christ," He mumbles. He remembers reading something about the supernatural in high school, a little book that's still somewhere in his apartment. Demons, demonic possession, exorcisms. He passed it off as junk, but now... He thinks he's getting hysterical, and the saliva starting to foam out of his mouth isn't helping. "That's impossible..." 

"Holy shit," Brenden shouts. "Somebody help him!" 

Antoine starts to pass out, vision becoming spotty. People's faces cut in and out of his mind. There's Goose screaming, Val's about to hyperventilate. Jordie looks like he might pass out, too. Jamie calmly directs the trainers into the room, and herds back their teammates so no one else can accidentally hurt the man on the floor. Before he loses consciousness, Antoine reaches out to Brenden, weakly pawing at his arm, and croaks out "Tyler." 

Brenden furrows his brow, and opens his mouth to say something. Antoine doesn't get to hear it, though, because everything finally goes dark. 

*  
The sound of beeping is loud in his ears. It's the first thing he hears, and over a backdrop of darkness, he welcomes it. He can't feel his hands or feet, or anything really. It's just a heavy, numb feeling that weights him down, and he assumes this is what a sandbag must feel like. 

The flow of time is muddled in his brain. He tries to count the seconds, tries to do the math in his head as he continues to count. Ten minutes, twenty-six seconds. One hundred six minutes, seven seconds. Six thousand three minutes, fifty-four seconds. 

He loses count after breaking a million. 

Eventually, the distant feeling of being shifted starts. He hears a light, airy voice, and assumes it is his nurse, or doctor checking his vitals. They leave, soon. He wants them to come back. 

He spends his time trying to open his eyes, or to move his hands, or something. Anything. He doesn't get very far. He tries to go to sleep, and it works for a bit. But he gets tired of sleeping. It's boring. 

Actually, his whole existence as of now is boring. He forces himself to think of nothing, to disregard the incident in its entirety. He refuses to acknowledge it whatsoever. He doesn't think of the people involved, or where it happened. He doesn't even think his own fucking name. That is, until he finally gets his first visitor. 

"Hey, bud." That voice is familiar. It fills the whole sterile room with warmth, and it makes him wish his eyes were open even more. "How are you?" 

Shitty. The best word to describe anything right now. 

He hears a heavy sigh, and internally winces at his moment of pessimism. 

"This is fucking stupid. Can you even fucking hear me?" 

Yes! He tries to scream. God damn it, yes! 

"Whatever. I just," Another sigh. "What the hell happened to you, dude? One minute, you're smiling, fucking grinning, and then you're on the floor, looking like the girl from the fucking Exorcist!" 

He didn't know. Of course he wouldn't, but the anxiety of him finding out is still there. 

"You said something about Tyler. I don't, shit, how the hell am I supposed to know what that means?" 

You aren't. 

"God, I wish you could talk." 

Me too.

"Antoine." 

Brenden grinds out his name, and Antoine can feel where his large hands curls around his forearm. His palms are sweaty and shaking. There is a certain feeling that Antoine can't place, and he's certain that Brenden is the root of the problem, but... That isn't important. The more pressing issue that starts to weigh heavily on him is the terrifying idea of his teammate being the next to find out that there isn't something entirely human about Jamie and Tyler. 

"I need to go, Rouss. But, I'll check in when I can." 

And then he is gone. 

Over time, other Stars start to make appearances. Kari comes in with his wife, bringing with them a plethora of flowers. They hardly say a word, save for Kari mumbling a 'get well.' They leave the plants just barely touching his arm, and Antoine practically melts at the softness of the petals, and the sweet smell that wafts past his nose everyday. Gonch and his family visit. The kids are loud, and laugh constantly, but the old Russian doesn't chastise them at all. Antoine is grateful, because he likes the way they take his mind off of the dull pain that throbs in his bones. Pevs is perhaps the most pitiful of them all, in an almost adorable way. He will sit at Antoine's bedside for hours, rambling about his day, and assuring him that the hospital isn't so bad. He always ends his time there with an awkward pause, clueing Antoine in to the man's staring, before walking away quickly. 

Brenden still visits. He is mostly quiet, save for small snatches of songs he hums under his breath. He brings books with him, to Antoine's surprise, which he might read out loud to him once in a while. Honestly, if it weren't for him and Pevs, Antoine would be bored out of his skull. 

*  
Antoine's eyes shoot open, squinting to adjust to the lights of the room. He looks around, taking note of the dead flowers wilting next to him, and the paleness of his skin. He blinks rapidly, fending off tears of relief. 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor catches his attention.

Dread blossoms in his chest and stomach at the sight of Tyler Seguin grinning at him, teeth glinting, and eyes black. His face is tan, and his hair seems a little longer than how Antoine remembers it being, betraying how ling he's been stuck in this hospital bed. The man makes an amused noise.

"Well, it's a good thing you're awake," Antoine studies him with wide eyes. "I couldn't say this without knowing for sure if you would hear it." 

"I didn't think you existed. You know, a medium. I thought all of them had died out in Europe after World War II. Guess I was wrong, huh? Whatever. Listen, dude. You're definitely something special. The Other says its encountered mediums before, but most of them could only see ghosts, or nothing at all. Most mediums couldn't pick out the Other unless they died. That means you're super sensitive to, well, supernatural shit. So, this goes without saying, you might as well be a paranormal prostitute. Other beings looking for a temporary host body will come straight to you. You aren't safe."

Antoine stares at him, and resents the snort that Tyler lets loose. 

"That's why we're claiming you. With us around, you won't be bothered by...annoying distractions." He smiles. 

He stands, and places his hand over Antoine's mouth, the other over his chest. Immediately following, Antoine's chest cavity seems like it's filled with fire. He screams, but they're muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth. 

It lasted for a moment that stretched on forever, and then Tyler disappears out the door, casually shoving his hands in his jean pockets. 

Monitors are going crazy by this point, and doctors and nurses are racing in to check his vitals, trying bring them up or down. He is dizzy, but manages to stay conscious through the chaos. 

It's only a few days until he is released from the hospital. In that time, people are rushing in to see him. His family flies down from Quebec just to hug him, and cry. His teammates are basically living in the waiting room, and other NHL players are there, too. Even some guys from the minors come.

Jamie and Jordie make an appearance, both looking guilty. 

Tyler doesn't show up again. 

*  
"You're an ass, Seguin." Antoine huffs, settling his legs on the rest of the couch, feet in Tyler's face. 

"Yeah, yeah. You're just mad that you have to be part of family time, now." Marshall sniffs at Antoine, and hops up onto the couch, too. He lays down on Antoine's chest with a wuffle. 

"If I remember, you're the one that forced me to be a part of this 'family' in the first place." He air quotes. "I'm still surprised you haven't asked me for a threesome yet."

"Stop flirting with him, he's mine." Jamie shouts from the kitchen, where the smell of a chicken being cooked makes Antoine's mouth water. He smiles sheepishly. 

Jordie watches them from his spot in front of the tv, smiling warily.

Joining the Benn-Seguin household hadn't been as bad as Antoine had feared. In fact, he enjoyed hanging with the guys more than he should. The living was easy amongst their tight knit group, and he knew he was accepted by them, even if his joining had been a bit impromptu. Apparently Tyler's 'claiming' of him was a spur of the moment thing. 

He still has trouble trusting them.

With the whole story being told to him one drunken night after dinner, Antoine's mental image of that thing is still not the most complimentary. He feels bitter at both Jamie and Tyler for being careless with the demon. Their frequent apologies don't stop the fits of anger and suffering that still come out of nowhere. He's been picked up off the shower floor more than once, and he resents it wholeheartedly. Nightmares are fleeting, but there are nights when all Antoine can do is stare at the ceiling till morning. 

Still. 

There are days where he is happy, like now. The air is light, and the feeling of family makes Antoine think he could explode into a fuckton of rainbows and glitter. He finds himself appreciating the banter that goes on between Jordie and himself, or the tender moments of love expressed between Jamie and Tyler. 

Really, if he could experience more times like this, then he would gladly live through a little suffering.

There isn't much he appreciates outside of their little family anymore, except for Brenden. The brunette visits often enough, and Antoine wishes the man knew. He wishes he could tell him, to show him. But, he knows that the best thing for Brenden is to live without that heavy information weighing him down. The only way for Brenden to stay Brenden is if he never, ever knows. 

He pets Marshall's head, smiling sadly. For the greater good, he reminds himself. Even with that thought, he feels broken, torn. 

"Come eat, guys!" 

Antoine pushes Marshall down, and then rolls off the couch, taking Tyler with him. 

Sacrifices are sacrifices, he thinks a little scathingly, but the rewards are worth it. 

*  
Antoine Roussel is forsaken by God, but that doesn't stop him from living happily ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay it's done! I deserve a big fist right in my face, like, right now. I am the worst procrastinator, but I figured that I should at least finish this story. UGH. 
> 
> I don't know where all this came from, but whatever. I hope you guys enjoy it, and go credit LadyJanelly! She's the one that inspired all this jazz. 
> 
> Anyone else feel that "subtle" Brenden/Antoine slash?
> 
> Comments & Kudos appreciated!


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